I'm Building a Morgue!

From dictionary.com:

morgue

noun

1. a place in which bodies are kept, especially the bodies of victims of violence or accidents, pending identification or burial.

2. a reference file of old clippings, mats, books, etc., in a newspaper office.

3. the room containing such a reference file.

4. any place, as a room or file, where records, information, or objects are kept for unexpected but possible future use.

5. such records, information, or objects.

So, to which definition am I referring?

-4. any place, as a room or file, where records, information, or objects are kept for unexpected but possible future use.

See, it's not #1- although I was accepted to mortuary school. Really. I just couldn't afford the tuition, and I didn't qualify for a Pell grant, because I already had my bachelor's degree- in theatre.

Speaking of theatre, that's where I first learned about the "other" kind of morgue. I can't remember if it was high school or college theatre, but I learned that it was important to have this great reference tool.

I found an empty composition book, and started putting magazine clippings in it. Pictures that grabbed me, even if I don't know what it was about the picture that did the grabbing; paint swatches; rough sketches of the layout of the Merewood House- from memory. Pictures of things I'm sure we can't afford, but they're pretty and can help define what we want when the time comes. I love stone and wood. I love rich colors. I want function, style, and comfort. I want a sanctuary. Peace.

The Morgue



A Sketch from Memory

Some Textures I Love

Sigh

I am so torn. I really miss the Sugar Land/Missouri City area, and really don't like Crosby. The land is a hell of a lot cheaper out here, though. Big time cheaper. Lots of space, lower prices. I suppose we'll have to bite the bullet and pay a higher price, because I don't want to take the chance of being completely miserable in a part of the area I hate, even though we'd be in our own house, built the way we want, with more "bells and whistles." Building out here would enable us to divert money that would've been spent on land into the house itself. On the other hand, it pretty much sucks out here- no culture, no diversity, etc. And, on the off-chance my daughter decides to move back during high school, well... the schools suck here. I guess this makes my decision pretty easy, but still...

On another note, questions for any of you who may have built a house: How much (ballpark, obviously) does it cost to clear a lot? Is the "pain in the ass factor" higher than paying more for a lot that is already cleared? Thanks for any guidance you can give.

Merewood Memories: Entry #1

What's a journey without the occasional trip down memory lane?

I plan to share "Merewood Memories" from time to time, and I hope to beg/nag/talk my friends and family members into doing the same. They aren't in any particular order.

I got really sick when I was 15; I had viral meningitis and mono, scary shit. I was really run down and wasn't taking super care of myself, so I picked up these illnesses from who knows where. I spent a night or two in the hospital- this fun visit included a spinal tap, which, at that point in my life, was probably the worst pain I'd experienced. Once discharged, I spent maybe a week or two at home (can any of you remember how long it was? it is a little foggy for me), supposedly recuperating. Further tests showed the mono was actually going to get worse before it got better.

I had to withdraw from school for the rest of the fall semester. I'm sure some people thought I was pregnant or something, but I promise... it really was mono. HISD provided a homebound teacher, so I was able to keep up with school (I was finally able to understand geometry, since I didn't have Mr. Hale teaching me during my convalescence!), but it was exhausting. Just existing was exhausting. Talking on the phone with friends for 20 minutes would wear me out, and I would conk out for a few hours. Really- any activity, no matter how easy or short, was exhausting.

I knew I could safely rest, though... I had Stocky, my Lhasa Apso, guarding me! Stocky was a strange dog, probably because of inbreeding (male Lhasas tend to be aggressive because of this). He could be the sweetest, most loving dog, and then he'd turn on you and bite the shit out of you. During this time, though, he took such good care of me. He'd get on my bed and lie on the foot of it, guarding me from anyone (including parents) who *dared* approach the bed! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

  

Stocky and me, just as I finished recovering from mono.
  

 

Stocky gnawing on... something. At least it wasn't human.

Why I Want to Build as Green as Possible (a.k.a. I Really, Really HATE Regular Insulation)

Here's where I get a little soapbox-y/rant-y, etc. Please bear with me.

I wasn't always the most "environmentally aware," back in the day. Fortunately, that changed as I grew up. I started recycling, cutting up six-pack holders so critters wouldn't get trapped, etc. I'm not the best at it, but I try. I lived in Germany for 15 months, where it is the LAW to recycle. They made it so easy over there- I am proud to be American, I love this country, but we could really take a page or two from the Germans regarding recycling, automobiles, and road conditions.

Aaaanyway, I was aware of "green building," but it wasn't something I really considered until Hurricane Ike hit in 2008. I was on the verge of remarriage, and my daughter and I had recently moved out of Mom #1's and Dad #2's rental home and in with who is now Wonderful Husband; the three of us rented an apartment about a mile from the parentals. We weren't quite ready to do it, financially speaking, but it really turned out for the best, because of that bastard known as Ike.

That summer was pretty rough for my family. My work situation was not the best, and my maternal grandmother was dying. We buried her about a week before Ike hit. We were in our apartment, Dad #2 was out of the country, seeing his mother because her health wasn't so great, and Mom #1 was in the house, which was located in Sugar Land.

I know, I know... you're thinking "But Sugar Land is so far inland. How could Hurricane Ike do what it did?" Tornado, dear readers. It was a small one, but it hit the roof of the house, while Mom was in there. She finally decided to get out when water started pouring through the light fixtures and electrical outlets; the ceiling started collapsing just as she got out the front door. She tried to make it to the next door neighbors', but the wind kept knocking her down. She managed to get in her car, which was parked in the driveway, where she rode out the storm. I gotta tell ya, a 2001 BMW 325i convertible handled Ike better than the house. Not a single drop of water made it in that car!

We rescued Mom the next morning, and got into the house a day or so later, I think (it kind of blurs together at this point- we were all shaken and raw after everything we'd been through), to see what could be salvaged. Oh, the damage...

You can see where the tornado hit

I think this was either the master

bedroom or the foyer ceiling



 I can't get the damn pictures to line up right. Sigh. This irritates the nit-picky Virgo...

Anyway, you get the idea.



Piles of sheetrock and insulation
by the front door. :(



I put on my hiking boots, gathered garbage bags and work gloves, and got to it. I guess it was about 30-45 minutes later when I noticed weird, black, crumbly streaks all over the (previously beige) carpet. I didn't know what the hell was causing that, until a short time later when I realized that the wet insulation was eating away the soles of my hiking boots, I shit you not (sorry, I have a filthy mouth). They were flapping around and then were completely off my boots within a couple of hours. So I thought, damn, look what this does to hiking boots! What the hell does it do to our bodies???? I'll tell you what it does- it causes breathing problems, skin problems, and G-d knows what else. I made a trip to the ER a couple of days later, after another trek through the disaster, because I was having a hard time breathing. I needed two nebulizer treatments just to feel well enough to leave with an inhaler in tow.

This experience really made me think (even more) about the impact this type of construction has on the environment and people; I decided to start searching for alternatives- surely they had to be out there!?



Did you know that you can recycle denim and make insulation? Shred those blue jeans! There is even some kind of foam, made from soybeans, that can be used to insulate your home, and I know there are other options as well. I told myself that if I ever had the option to build, I would build as green as possible, so I could provide a healthy home for myself and my family, and help make the world a better place.

"Everything Old is New Again!"

Welcome, y'all. My husband and I are embarking on an exciting, crazy journey. It may very well drive me over the edge, LOL, but we are taking charge!

What are we doing? Well, we want to build the house of my youth- a home I miss very much. My parents bought the house, located on Merewood Lane, when I was 12 (early 1982, the year I was turning 13); they sold it in 1994, after I was married the first time and living in Mississippi. The neighborhood had become kind of dodgy, and Dad #2 received an offer of a promotion to the "home office" in Upstate New York. So he and Mom #1 packed up their lives (and part of mine) and headed to the frozen hell of Horseheads, New York. They moved back to Texas a few years later, but that's another story. :)

What is it about the Merewood House? I'm sure it's a variety of things- it was a very impressionable time in my life. It was (and remains to this day) the longest I'd lived in a house (even though I went away to college, I still count that time). There were good and bad times there, along with the innocence of childhood and then the growing awareness of adulthood. We had a really kick-ass pool, too! Friendships were made during that time- friendships that have carried into what is now -GASP- middle age (how the hell did I get to be middle aged? I sure don't think like an almost-forty-three-year-old!!!)

At any rate, this house/home etched such an impression in my psyche that, from time to time, I dream about it. Am I crazy? Probably. The dreams have various tones- in them, the house has been the same, it's been different, the pool has been filled in with dirt and covered with grass, the pool was there but filthy, etc. Freud would probably have a field day. One thing remains constant in the dreams: the sense of longing for my old home, in a state that is familiar to me.

The Merewood House, ca. 1985

It's not like that, anymore, of course. I haven't seen the inside of it since 1994, but I have driven past it a few times (during the day!), most recently this past Saturday evening. The neigborhood is still dodgy. The wood has been painted white. They cut a window above the front door. They planted two trees in the yard, one on each side of the front walk. I don't like it; it doesn't seem right.

The Merewood House, ca. 2007ish (from Google Maps)

Due to some interesting circumstances (again, another story), my new husband (okay, we've been married almost three years, so not *new* new, but you get the idea) and I are living with my in-laws, and we are saving up to buy a house. I'm picky. I love the angles and designs of a lot of the 1980s houses (the Merewood House was built in 1980), I don't like "cookie cutter" homes. Things have to be *just so.* I'm a Virgo, which explains a lot of this, I'm sure. I've searched the Houston Association of Realtors website for houses that would meet my needs, only to find bits and pieces here and there- "Oh, I love those angles," "Very cool built-ins," "Great pool! Why does the rest of the house look so lousy?" Did I mention I'm picky?

Anyway, it came to me the other day: there is a house out there... the Merewood House. Buying it is not an option- not only is it in the dodgy 'hood, it's also not for sale. Here's the cool part: it is a custom design. The original owner, who sold it to my parents, was the homebuilder for that neighborhood. After selling the house to us, he went to a neighboring subdivision and built its mirror-image twin, which he moved into. That's right, folks... there are only two (as far as I know) of this design. I believe the homebuilder is deceased, but his son lived down the street from us. Thanks to the power of the Intarwebs Gods, I have located said son, and guess what? He is a homebuilder, who does a lot of "green" building. I emailed him to tell him what I wanted to do, and to ask if he had the plans for the house. He told me the original architect is still in business, and gave me his (the son's, not the architect's) cell number. I plan to call him soon. We want to make a few tweaks (which I will mention in future posts) and have some modern conveniences, but we want to maintain the basic integrity of the plan.

I told my parents what hubs and I intend to do. Mom #1 thinks it's great, I think (she misses the house too). I'm sure she told Dad #2, but I don't know his reaction just yet. Dad #1 has cautioned me about nostalgia and homebuilding, due to some issues my cousin had with her nostalgia project. I know he is not discouraging me, merely asking me to be careful. :) I'm sure he's told Mom #2, but like with Dad #2, I don't know the reaction.

So, here we are, thirty years after first moving into the Merewood House. We want to build as green as possible/affordable, given my allergies, as well as my hatred of regular insulation (more about that later). We have a long road ahead of us: we need to find some land that's not in a scary place, that is affordable, and that is closer to family and friends. We need to figure out financing. I invite you to follow us on our journey, wherever it may take us. :)